i'll try to get out but i never will
by foamskyandsea
Summary: They meet in Italy, because despite how cliché the meeting itself is, not everything can be perfect.


Title: i'll try to get out but i never will (this traffic's perfectly still)

Author: emmajane14

Rating: PG-13 (for language maybe?)

Fandom/Pairing: Inception, Arthur/Eames

Summary: They meet in Italy, because despite how cliché the meeting itself is, not everything can be perfect.

A/N: There's a few changes in the tone of this piece and it certainly isn't a classic love story in any sense. It's barely even a love story. Maybe in my mind only. The different parts of this fic were inspired by different things, some of which were other fics and some of which were RL stories. Either way, even though it's a combination of different things, hopefully it will make sense to someone…

They meet in Italy, because despite how cliché the meeting itself is, not everything can be perfect. It's springtime and just starting to warm up. They're both so young that it hurts.

It's so bright out and there isn't a cloud in the sky, but there's a sharp breeze that reminds Arthur that just because the calendar says spring doesn't mean that the weather agrees.

He's only here because Cobb and his new girlfriend have some insane idea about some dream nonsense. Arthur prefers things to be more practical and hands-on but Dom is an old friend and Arthur has always had trouble saying no.

Dom and his girlfriend—Mal, and Arthur really needs to remember her name—are waiting for him on a little bridge over water in between buildings. There's another man standing with them and he's leaning on the cement of the bridge and smoking. His jacket collar is turned up against the wind and he's speaking to Mal without actually looking at her. Arthur thinks it's a little condescending of the man.

Arthur meets Dom and Mal on the bridge and after a handshake with Dom and a kiss for Mal—Arthur's never been anything if not polite—he is introduced to the other man.

Proactively, Arthur sticks his hand out for a handshake and introduces himself.

The other man quirks an eyebrow, "What are you, maybe fifteen?" He has a British accent that isn't quite posh.

Arthur bristles immediately. He knows he has a young face, but it's an entirely different thing to be called a prepubescent teenager to his face.

"Excuse me?"

The man laughs and his face is all lips and joy. Arthur falls a little in love.

They spend the spring and summer in what used to be a café in Italy learning all they could ever want to know about dreaming and more.

When they finally all part ways, Mal and Dom head back to LA to plan their wedding, Arthur thinks about looking for a job back in the States, and Eames doesn't even mention where he's headed. Arthur's fairly sure that he doesn't actually know.

Their goodbyes aren't particularly dramatic since they'll all be together again for the wedding but even still, goodbyes have never Arthur's specialty. With Mal, it's a hug and kiss and Dom gets a pat on the back.

Eames is a little more difficult though. There's been this thing bubbling under the surface between them but nothing has happened. Nothing but heated looks and invasions of personal space.

Arthur's actually quite glad that they're all parting ways now because between Eames and spending the summer in Italy, he's practically love-drunk. It's a little embarrassing.

Arthur sticks his hand out for a handshake but he really should've learned by now that Eames is nothing if not infuriatingly unprofessional. Here Arthur is trying to do the professional and adult thing and Eames just has to go and mess it all up. Of course.

Eames ignores his hand and looks at him.

"Oh, Arthur" It's sounds a little broken and Arthur wonders how unprofessional it would be to sink his teeth into the tattoo on Eames' shoulder.

There's a moment of complete silence between them before Eames leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth.

"Goodbye, darling"

Arthur doesn't move. He just stands very still for a few very quiet minutes and tries to pretend that he isn't completely and entirely _fucked._

Eames wears a sharp black suit to the funeral. It's the classiest that Arthur has ever seen him dressed. Mal would smile if she could see him.

_No._ Would have smiled. Mal _would have_ smiled if she _could have _seen him. It's painful to even think and Arthur thinks that this must be what it feels like to be hit by a freight train.

The last few days have been a blur of grey and silence. He can't remember most of it, but certain moments pierce through the fog.

He can't remember getting the call. He can't remember being told by Dom over the phone, but he remembers the way the wall felt under his knuckles. He remembers where the dust accumulated on the floor from the hole in the plaster. He remembers wondering how hard it would be to fix.

The funeral is a silent dramatic affair and Dom isn't even there. He's probably halfway across the world right now and Arthur will join him in a week's time.

Arthur understands why Dom isn't here. He knows what would happen if he was. He understands. It doesn't stop him from wanting to scream. Dom should be here. Mal should _be_ here.

Instead, there's him, Eames, the kids, Miles, and a few dozen people that Arthur has never seen before.

The funeral is silent and suffocating and Mal would hate everything about it. She'd complain about how stuffy and absurd it was before shaking her head with a laugh. She'd _hate _it. Just the way Arthur does.

After the funeral, they go straight to the burial and Arthur stands in the pouring rain and stares at the hole in the ground. How can an entire life be reduced to something that fits in a whole in the ground? How the fuck does that even work?

When Eames comes to stand next to him and share his umbrella, Arthur barely notices. There's a hole in the ground. For Mal. There's a hole in the ground for Mal.

Eventually, Eames bumps shoulders with him and they meet eyes. Arthur sees Eames mouth open as if to speak, and Arthur cuts him off immediately. A sarcastic inappropriate comment from Eames can't fix this.

"Don't"

And Eames doesn't.

They meet for drinks after the flight and Arthur chooses a small discreet bar close to his apartment. He almost forgot what LA looked like.

He should be excited. Arthur should be elated out of his mind. They just incepted Robert Fisher; if that doesn't call for excitement, he doesn't know what would. Instead, he feels exhausted. Exhausted and old.

Eames slides into the stool next to him and orders before turning to him.

"Well, you hardly look properly excited about our recent success darling?" He makes it a question and Arthur isn't sure about anything anymore.

Eames is in a leather jacket and jeans and he's apparently had time to get a haircut since they landed. He looks younger than he has since they first met and Arthur's fists tighten around the glass at the thought of Italian summers.

"There's nothing to be excited about." It's supposed to be sharp and cutting because for all that Eames has made Arthur fall in love with him, he's never been anything but cool and elusive. It comes out quiet and broken instead. He's just so tired.

"We just incepted Robert Fisher, saved Saito's empire, brought Cobb home to his kids and gave dreamshare a talented new architect. What's not to be excited about?" Eames looks genuinely confused at Arthur's lack of excitement and Arthur wonders how he can be younger than Eames and still feel so burnt out. So tired of everything.

"We forced an idea into someone's mind, helped a tycoon continue to expand, and possibly just ruined a girl's future."

"You didn't mention Cobb,"

"Cobb shouldn't have ever had to leave. Cobb should have always been here with the kids and Mal…None of this should have ever even needed to happen."

Mal's funeral feels like a lifetime ago but it's only been maybe a year or so. He can't believe that one thing so small as dreaming too much has lead them here. To this bar where even though Cobb is back home, nothing feels right to Arthur.

Eames is silent and Arthur stares at the worn bar in front of him. He stares until his head hurts.

"Arthur," It sounds more like a sigh than his name and Arthur doesn't even think to respond at first. After a moment he turns.

It's gentle and simple and ridiculously out of place in a bar, but when Eames leans in with a hand on Arthur's knee to whisper "let's just go home" in his ear, Arthur doesn't have it in him to protest.

Arthur wakes up in his apartment with Eames curled up behind him to sunlight coming in the window where he forgot to close the curtains. Arthur extracts himself from Eames' hold and stands in front of the window.

Eames joins him half an hour later, standing behind him and resting his hands on Arthur's hipbones. It's strange. They don't do this. They aren't like this. Eames doesn't follow him home after jobs. They just flirt when they work. In public, where it's safe.

"I fell in love in Italy once," as soon as Arthur says it, he wishes he could take it back. Eames' right index finger twitches and Arthur stays very still.

"So did I,"


End file.
